Venetian Holiday
by DameKM1285
Summary: An AU in which Maura Isles, an English noblewoman, travels to Venice, Italy to study more about medicine. There she meets the Rizzoli's, a native family with an interesting history and story - especially the elusive guard, "Gianna Rizzoli". Eventual Rizzles, possible M rating later on!
1. Benvenuti a Venezia

**_A/N: Okay, so stick with me readers (that is if you enjoy!)! Please note that this is an AU set in 15th century Venice with somewhat historical accuracy (I am a history major). Reviews are ALWAYS welcome and feel free to recommend if you enjoy! Maura is an English noblewoman, so yes, she does have an accent. I have changed some of the names to be more suitable Italian names (ex. Jane is now Gianna which is pronounced "JAHN-nah"). All R&I characters are copyright Tess Gerritsen and/or Janet Tamaro, but some are my own as well. There is a mention of something called a "stiletto" it is a dagger, not a shoe! Grazie readers, and enjoy! ;]_**

_Early mornings were never this warm at home._ She thought quietly to herself, pacing the street just outside of the illustrious Doge's palace. _I almost miss the rain and cold. Sometimes I just dread the heat…especially dry heat like __this__._

Last night the ferryboat had brought her over from San Giuliano and after almost a month long journey from London she was now exhausted. She was at a temporary lull in her travel while waiting to meet with a new colleague to start her work in Venice.

"Ahh, donna Isles?" Came a soft, yet heavily accented voice.

She turned around sharply, her silk dress whipping about her. "Yes, who is asking?"

"My name is Marco, I am to take you to where you will be staying while you are with us in Venezia."

"Oh, you are my father's contact," She smiled briefly, now noting the man before her.

"Yes, your father is a good man," He looked about her, "do you have any bags, bella donna?"

"Oh, yes I do. They are just here," She gestured to a rather presumptuous pile of luggage with a smile and coy blink.

Marco retrieved the bags and lightly tossed them in the back of his small hand pushed cart. The poor wooden cart nearly sagged to the cobblestone ground under all the weight. "If you would follow me, donna Isles."

Maura Isles hesitantly followed the young man down a corridor and into the _Piazza San Marco_ where she gasped at the splendour of the basilica. There were about a dozen churches in London, including the rather splendid Westminster Abbey, but nothing compared to the gilded murals and sheer size of the _Basilica di San Marco_.

"Is the weather like this in Eeengland, donna Isles?" Marco suddenly brought up.

"Oh, no," She said, taking in the tiny, tiny alleyways that ran down the sides of the street she was now following Marco down. "England is quite chilly and generally pretty rainy. Marco, your English is quite good; where did you learn to speak it?"

"Oh, I am studying under the Capitano of the Guards and he speaks Eeenglish very good," Marco replied with a rather proud smile. "He is a man from up north and speaks many languages. Most of us know Eeenglish since there seem to be a lot of you here now."

"Oh," She simply nodded and followed the tan Venetian down a side street. Marco stopped in a courtyard and placed the cart by the well in the centre, quickly wiping his now sweating brow.

"_Francesco, Tommaso, vieni qui e aiutare la donna con le sue cose_!" He quickly shouted. _[Francesco, Tommaso, come help the lady with her things!]_

"_Sì, sì, Marco, ci sarà verso il basso in un solo momento_." Came the frantic reply. _[Yes, yes, Marco, we will be down in just a moment.]_

"Oh Marco," Maura began with a worried tone, knotting her hands "I do not know _any_ Italian. Only Latin…"

He smiled. "Do not worry donna Isles, Francesco and Tommaso speak very well Eeenglish."

"What does 'donna' mean?"

"Oh, it is a title," He scrunched up his face, "I do not know how you call in Eeenglish…like you are a noblewoman."

"Lady?"

"Si, si!" He gestured widely with his hands, a big excited smile on his tan lips, "Si, I guess lady."

The door to one of the tall, rather well built ancient brick buildings opened with a sharp crack and two young men about Marco's age came running out. They were obviously brothers, both sharing dark brown hair cropped short, the shorter of the two with deep-set brown eyes and the other with light blue ones.

"Oh, we have been waiting for you, donna Isles!" The blue-eyed one said with a rather coy smirk. "You are truly bella, donna!"

"I'm sorry?"

"He is saying you are beautiful, donna Isles." The brown-eyed one shook his head. "I am Francesco Rizzoli, this is my brother Tommaso – he is a little _cazzo [fucker]_ sometimes, do not mind him."

"Oh, it is a pleasure to meet you," She curtsied with a smile, completely missing the profanity that whispered across her ears like a gentle lullaby.

"_Accidenti la signora ha un sacco di sacchetti._" Tommaso quickly spoke under his breath. _[Damn the lady has a lot of bags.]_

"_Sta 'zitto idiota._" Francesco retorted. "Please excuse him, donna Isles, I beg of you." _[Shut up you idiot.]_

"Oh," She crooked her head to the side in confusion. "All right?"

"The _dottore_ has you staying with us until he can find you a proper place to live, si?" Francesco began to pick up Maura's bags as he chided Tommaso in Italian to do the same.

"I believe so, yes,"

"He picked a _bene_ place for you to stay," Marco laughed. "Signora Rizzoli is a well cook!"

"Oh, I have not had Italian food before!" Maura gasped excitedly, clapping two petite hands together.

"Eh, remember donna Isles, we are _Venetians_, not _Italians_." Tommaso snapped. "There is a _grandioso_ difference."

"Oh, I apologize," Her hazel eyes showed concern.

"Come een, come een," Francesco had returned from placing the bags within the house, "Mamma has just finished some _zuppa_ for you, I hope you are hungry."

Maura just simply smiled and quickly walked in, followed by Marco and Tommaso with more of her bags. She was drastically different than the Venetians she would be staying with – her blonde hair long, braided and tucked neatly into a veil. Her eyes were mostly green hazel and her skin pale, untouched by the sun and any intense labour. She wore the finest silk dress that money could by (she herself came from money – her father a wealthy apothecary in London) and a pair of brown leather Turnshoes that covered delicately stockinged feet.

The Venetian boys were dark, dressed in rather flamboyant brocade doublets with slashed sleeves of different colours and woollen hosen. Their feet were clad in hearty brown or black leather boots reaching their thighs and at their waists were swords tied in case of a swift attack.

"Mamma is waiting in _la cucina_ if you would like to go in there," Francesco smiled pointing to a door down the long corridor leading from the foyer. "She can give you the _zuppa_ while we bring your things up to your _camera_."

"Oh, thank you very much, that would be lovely,"

"Si, bella donna," Tommaso winked as he and Marco carried one of Maura's heavy trunks.

Maura gently pushed open the door to the kitchen and found a middle-aged woman sitting at a rather large, open fireplace attending to a thick metal cauldron. She hummed simply and let out a frightened gasp when Maura came in.

"_Gesù Cristo, mio Dio_!" She shouted, clutching her breast and then laughing. Her brown braided hair rested on her left shoulder with ribbons running through it – she was a beautiful woman with a truly Roman nose and well defined Italian features. "You must be Mauura."

"Yes, I am Maura Isles," She smiled and curtsied again. "How are you this evening Signora Angela Rizzoli?"

"_Prego_, everybody calls me mamma," She held out her arms for a hug and Maura obliged with slight apprehension, "while you are here, I take care of you like you are my own _bambina_, si?"

"Oh, thank you," She smiled again, hazel eyes unsure behind a rather confident front.

"You have met my boys?" She smiled.

"Yes, they are quite the gentlemen,"

She laughed, "Oh, nobody calls them gentlemen – not even me, their own mamma!"

Maura was silent, unsure of what to say.

"The boys are always getting into some kind of trouble," She said, removing a wooden bowl from a cabinet. "They think nobody can mess with them because they are a part of the city guard – but they still have their mamma to answer to!" She scooped a ladle full of rather unappetizing seawater green colored liquid into the bowl. "Their papa treats them like precious florins, but sometimes those boys need their mamma to tell them how it is!"

Maura accepted the bowl of soup from her and sat across from Mamma Rizzoli at the wooden table she brought her over to. "Is Signore Rizzoli home?"

"He is out working tonight,"

"Oh, what does he do?"

"He works on the docks," She replied, eating a small crust of bread, "but he is not _un marinaio_, just likes the water and the ships that come in from all over the _mare_."

Maura smiled at the thought of all the different people in Venice. London was always filled with Frenchmen and Belgians, but not many other groups. In Venice she had heard there were Arabs, Germans, Dutchmen, Spaniards, men of the north, Chinese, Mongolians – all kinds of people. She wished desperately to meet them all and learn of their cultures and their medicinal techniques – which is why she _was_ in Venice after all, to learn new techniques brought over by the Arabs.

"I am sure he meets a lot of very interesting people,"

"He does – a few years ago he met a Moor and now he is one of the finest soldiers in the guards!"

"A _Moor_?" Maura had heard of the people from Africa…but never knew anyone who knew one. "I _must_ meet him."

"Oh, he is always here," She laughed, "he is very close companions with _mia figlia_."

Her eyes widened. "Are they…married?"

"Married?" She thought for a second, her eyes narrowing, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Frediano the Moor married to mia Gianna? Oh, no, no, no! Frediano is married to another woman."

_Gianna is such a beautiful name…_ Maura briefly thought to herself. "Oh, my apologies, _Mamma_ Rizzoli."

"No, no, with the amount of time they are together one might think they are _married_." She imitated Maura's accent.

Both of them looked up when they could hear shouting coming from the second floor and then some laughter. Several sets of footsteps came whooshing down the wooden staircase adjacent to the kitchen before the door swung open allowing Marco, Francesco and Tommaso inside.

"Mamma, when does Gianna come back?" Francesco asked, serving himself some soup.

"Your papa said she would be back before midday," She replied, "you _ragazzi_ better not have made too much of _un pasticcio_ upstairs, do you understand?"

"Si, mamma," They all replied.

Maura listened to the Venetians speak in their native tongue while enjoying the soup Mamma Rizzoli had given her. It was a fish stew – no doubt caught in the lagoon that morning – with fresh herbs from a garden most likely behind the Rizzoli house. It was stunning, despite its appearance – unlike anything Maura had ever tasted before.

"_Mamma, dove sono tutti? Perché la casa così buio? Qualcuno morire_?" Came a sultry, deep, feminine voice followed by a laugh from the foyer. _[Mamma, where is everyone? Why is the house so dark? Did someone die?]_

Maura's heart briefly stopped at the sound of the voice and she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She was rather in tune with her feelings and often thought rationally as to why she felt each thing, but the voice caught her off guard.

The door swung open and allowed in the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen.

"_Mamma, stiamo avendo una cena tardi_?" She laughed again in that gorgeous voice. _[Mamma, are we having a late dinner?]_

"Ohhh, mia Gianna!" Mamma Rizzoli stood up and kissed both cheeks of her only daughter. "_Mi sei mancato tanto! Sono così felice di averti di nuovo nella nostra casa_!" _[I have missed you so! I am so happy to have you back in our home!]_

"Si, mamma, I am glad to be back," She smiled, flashing a rather well maintained set of white teeth framed by full lips. She had high cheekbones set on a tanned olive face that framed a set of dark, chocolate brown eyes and rather expressive eyebrows. Her mother held her cleft chin in her hand then put a finger in the centre with a laugh.

"Gianna how was Milano? Was it just like papa said it was?" Tommaso asked hurriedly, a big goofy smile on his face.

"Si, and more so!" She smiled again, sitting down beside Maura – whose heart skipped a second beat. "Tomma, you would _love_ it in Milano – all the women there."

"Are they are _bella_ as papa said they are?" He asked excitedly.

"Si, Tomma, maybe even more so than _you!_"

The Rizzoli's and Marco laughed, the small room echoing with happiness. Maura was beginning to wonder what exactly it was that Gianna did…

"Oh and Francesco, you would _amano i dolci_ they sell on the streets," Gianna continued, her eyes and husky voice hinting at a teasing tone.

"_Oh zitto stronzo_." Francesco quipped. _[Shut up you asshole.]_

They laughed again before Gianna's hand rested gently (and accidentally) on Maura's thigh. She turned quickly, brandishing a stiletto to Maura's chin.

"_Cristo, chi diavolo sei_?" She asked rather loudly. _[Christ, who the hell are you?]_

"Gianna, this is donna Mauura Isles, from Eeengland," Mamma Rizzoli interjected, lowering the stiletto from Maura's chin. "You do not have to be afraid of her, _mia figlia_."

"Oh, _mi dispiace_," A subtle blush formed over high olive cheekbones.

Maura had only just noticed that Gianna Rizzoli wasn't wearing a dress, but rather a pair of tight black linen hosen and a burgundy slashed sleeved doublet, from under she could see a linen shirt stretched loosely over a thin body. She wore a black beret with a small white plume over long, dark brown curls that were tied loosely with a ribbon at the base of her rather slender neck. The leather gloved hand that held the stiletto now sheathed it, and turned into a friendly reach.

"I am Gianna Rizzoli, and my Eeenglish is really very bad," She laughed.

"Oh no, it is actually quite lovely," Maura blushed deeply.

"You are dressed very Eeenglish," She told her, her chocolate eyes scrutinizing Maura's dark blue silk dress. "Do all _donne_ still wear veils in Eeengland?"

"Is it not proper to do so in Venice?"

"If you were interested in _moda_ you would know that Venetian women tie their hair up in ribbons these times,"

"'Moda'?"

"Oh, err," She put a gloved finger to that lovely cleft chin. "Clothing-styles?"

"You are suggestion fashion," Maura corrected, "which is something _I_ happen to know _very_ well."

The boys sniggered and Gianna shut them up with a well-placed curse. "Well, signora Isles, you do not know _Venetian _'fashion' or your hair would be out of that _stupido _veil."

Maura Isles, not one to be outdone on fashion, reached for the clasp of her veil and took it off, letting loose what seemed like a thousand well maintained, silky-smooth blonde hairs about her narrow shoulders. The whole group of Venetians gawked at her, their eyes unblinking.

"Are you satisfied, signora Gianna?"


	2. Una dottoressa

**A/N: Wow, I am honored to have so many followers! Thank you to all of you so much and I hope you enjoy Chapter 2! I changed the ages of some of the characters to fit with the time period a bit better, just as a side note. Thank you all again and I will hopefully have Chapter 3 up soon! Reviews are always welcome! KC.**

The room full of otherwise rowdy Venetians grew silent. Maura felt eyes upon her and although her face was stern, on the inside she was reeling with nerves. She looked at all of their faces – mouths open, eyes wide, hands covering mouths – and suddenly she smirked.

"What is it?"

Tommaso blessed himself quickly and kissed his fingers, raising them to the ceiling. "_Cristo, non ho mai visto i capelli biondi così bello prima d'ora_…" _[I have never seen yellow hair so beautiful before...]_

"Your hair is like wheat, donna Isles!" Francesco replied his eyes trained a wisp of hair that had fallen across Maura's feminine face.

"_Cazzo, non ho mai visto una donna così bella_." Gianna hurriedly whispered. _[Fuck, I've never seen such a beautiful woman.]_

"Pardon me, signora Gianna?" Maura asked innocently, hazel eyes growing at the hurried tone.

"Oh, she said that she had never seen - " Tommaso began with a big smile.

"_Chiuse prima di ucciderti, capito_?" Gianna rose, her finger flying into Tommaso's chest. _[Shut it before I kill you, got it?]_ "Pleasure meeting you, donna Isles. I am sure I will be seeing you a lot more, no?"

"Since we reside in the same home, yes, I suppose."

"Mhm," Was Gianna's only response as she walked through the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.

Tommaso, Francesco and Marco instantly began to laugh, grinning and giggling like schoolboys about something in Italian. Mamma Rizzoli placed her hands on her hips and cleared her voice, which obviously had the same effect of holding one of those newfangled pistols to the boys' heads.

"_Uscire di casa, ragazzi. Vai alla locanda e qualche Bellini, no_?" She commanded, rather than asked. _[Get out of the house, boys. Go to the bar and have some bellini, no?]_

"Mamma, before noon?" Tommaso chided. "Even _you_ have _un problema_ with drinking before noon,"

"Then go to _il bordello_," She suggested, "I know at least you are there every other night, _Tommaso_."

Francesco and Marco laughed and the latter picked up some bread from the basket by the fireplace. Francesco held the door open for the rather shocked Tommaso who was followed by the now munching Marco.

"All right, Mamma…we will be back later, si?" Francesco smiled, kissing his mother on either cheek.

"Yes, _mio bambino_," She kissed his cheeks back, "you make sure your baby brother does not get into trouble, _capito_?"

"Si, si, mamma," Francesco smiled and gently waved to me, "_arrivederci_, donna Isles!"

"Farewell," She smiled back at him and began to play with her wavy blonde hair, her gentle fingers twisting and turning like knitting needles.

"I am sorry for _mia figlia_," Mamma began with a sigh, sitting beside Maura at the table. "She is not much of _una donna_, and we do not always expect her to be so…_accidenti, come si dice?_...so…forward?"

Maura gently smiled, folding the silk veil that she had placed on the table. "It's fine, Mamma Rizzoli. What your daughter seems to lack in decorum she more than makes up for in beauty,"

"Oh, si," Angela smiled, perking up, "_mia figlia_ is '_la rosa spinosa di Venezia_', like a thorny rose – she is _molto bella_ but also can be _molto pericoloso_."

"What exactly does Gianna do?" Maura wondered, her hazel eyes unrelenting in their curious gaze.

"Ah," Mamma Rizzoli sighed and then stood up, her hands needing something to do while she began a rather long tale (so it seemed). She picked up some needle and thread from under the table and placed herself back down beside Maura. "Mauura, Gianna is in the guards…but she is part of the _guardie d'elite_ that helps to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"That sounds rather dangerous,"

"It can be _molto pericoloso_," Angela repeated. "She was in _Milano_ for a few months to pick up some of their techniques – she is a fine swordswoman, but the _Milanese_ guard have some of the finest swordsmen in all of Italy."

"I have heard of their legend," Maura nodded in understanding.

"Si, si," Angela started a new row on the undergarments she seemed to be sewing, "Then their talents are known worldwide, no?"

"Father used to talk about a friend of his here – a Pollack I believe," Maura began, her eyes now focused on the hem of one of her sleeves – a nervous habit. "He came here after travelling all through Europe to learn how to better himself in a fight."

"A 'Pollack'?"

"Oh, erm," Maura put a delicate finger to her chin, "Perhaps you know him better as a Cossack?"

Angela focused on her sewing in thought. "I think we have lost something in translation, donna Isles,"

"My father said he wasn't a very tall man," She began, reminiscing, "perhaps a little extra weight, fierce eyes and a big belly laugh. I met him once when I was a child; father was helping him with a wound just below his eye."

"Oh, do you mean _Sergente _Korsak?" Angela's eyes lit up with a smile.

"Yes, I suppose that's his name,"

"He is in the guards – he is Gianna's mentor. Si, he comes from north of here where the barbarians once were." Angela smiled. "He is _molto bello_, donna Isles, but he has not such a good time with the ladies."

"Does he…prefer men?" Maura had heard of the sexual exploits of the free Venetians who often preferred company of the same gender.

Angela's eyes widened, "_Cristo, no!_ _Mi dispiace_, my Eeenglish is not good. He has been 'married' as you said earlier many times, but his wives seem to find young sailors to move off with instead."

"Oh," Maura blushed, "the poor man,"

"If I was not 'married' to my Francesco, I would be with _Sergente _Korsak," Angela giggled like a young girl, "but marriage is marriage and my Francesco brings home good money."

"Will I meet signore Rizzoli?"

Angela smiled and nodded, "He is working a few nights at the docks and so he sleeps during the day…perhaps in a few days, no?"

Maura replied with a smile. "Mamma, which is your eldest child?"

"Gianna is our first," Angela smiled, "She has just turned twenty-five in _agosto_. Francesco is the second and he will be twenty-one next month in _ottobre_. Tommaso is our baby, and he will be nineteen in _dicembre_."

"Oh, I see," Maura thought it made sense that Tommaso was the youngest…he seemed the most immature, but she didn't know his full character yet.

"Mauura, how old are you?" Angela wondered.

"Oh, I am twenty-three," Maura smiled, "my birthday is in February."

"Oh so you will be twenty-four in the upcoming year, no? _Febbraio_ is a good month to be born in, that is usually just before the start of _Carnevale_."

"Oh, I have heard of _Carnevale!_" Maura smiled enthusiastically. Her father had told her of the lavish balls, masks and parties that happened during the Lenten season in Venice. She was overjoyed when she found out she would be living in Venice while _Carnevale_ was going on and was able to experience it firsthand. She had heard there were fires that lit up the skies in different colors that caused men and women alike to awe at their beauty and grace – she desperately wanted to see them.

"Oh have you?" Angela sighed, "No doubt you have heard all of the _male_ things about it."

Of course Maura had heard about the negative side to _Carnevale_…the sailor's orgies that supposedly happened, naked women running through the streets…but she didn't care. It was all new and exciting to her.

"A few things, yes, I suppose," Maura nodded.

"Oh, _dove sono i miei costumi_?" Angela stood up and put her things down on the table. _[Oh, where are my manners?]_ "You must be tired, _bambina_. Would you like some sleep?"

"Sleep would be lovely, Mamma Rizzoli."

Maura woke up to the pleasant sounds of music and laughter coming from the floor below her. The bedroom the Rizzoli's had given her had previously been Tommaso's (who was now rooming with Francesco) and was quaint but well furbished. The bed was big enough for Maura and perhaps a pet, but never for two people. She sat up in her underdress and gazed at herself in the mirror beside the window that looked out into the courtyard.

The courtyard was full of people dancing, laughing, singing and eating. _I must have slept straight through the midday meal_. The Venetian night sky was alight with stars and the moon cast a gorgeous glow over the city. She looked out and could hear the words being sung by the Venetians in the courtyard.

_O morte dispietata_

_Tu m'hai fatto gran torto;_

_Tu m'hai tolto mia donna,_

_Ch'era lo mio conforto._

_La notte con lo die,_

_Fino all'alba del giorno._

_Giammai non vidi donna_

_Di cotanto valore,_

_Quanto era la Caterina,_

_Che mi dono il suo amore._

Maura smiled at the sound of slow, but happy sounding song and gazed out at the singers. She counted all the Rizzoli's, including Gianna, and found Marco, but did not know the others there. A dark skinned man was seated and playing a lute which provided the rhythm for the Venetian's melody.

Once dressed, Maura found herself in the courtyard and was immediately welcomed by Angela, whose drunken arms found their way around her. They were finishing up the song and when they did so, a round of applause was offered up for the lute player.

"Mauura, glad to finally see you awake." Angel smiled. "Have you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you," Maura replied with a smile.

Gianna approached them now; in her gloved hands two wooden cups and upon her olive face a rather shy smile. "Donna Isles? I would like to apologize for my actions earlier."

"Oh, your apology is not required," Maura replied, taking one of the cups from Gianna.

"I would accept it, donna Isles, I do not give them out often," Gianna replied, taking a sip from her cup, her eyes anywhere but Maura's.

"Oh," Maura looked down at the red liquid that lapped the walls of the light wooden cup, "then thank you, I suppose."

"Mhm," Gianna looked around, noting all the people in the courtyard, and the lack of Angela by Maura's side, "Mamma said that she told you what I do."

Maura nodded, "Yes, it is quite honorable. I am afraid though that women do not do what _you_ do in England."

"Well, we are not _in_ Eeengland," Gianna rolled her deep chocolate eyes. "We are Venetians, _we_ do as _we_ please."

"I have noted that," Maura confirmed.

"So, papa has said that you are here to learn from the _dottores_?"

She nodded and finally took a sip from the cup. The red wine that trickled over her tongue was smooth, sweet and delicate – surprising from a family of hard-nosed Venetians. "Oh, this is lovely!"

"Si, Venetian wine is some of the best in the world," Gianna smiled, flashing her white teeth. "I have heard that Eeenglish ale is _molto bene_."

Maura grinned, "I have not had ale myself, but I know many who swear upon it," She took another sip. "But yes, signora Gianna, I am here to learn from the doctors and apothecaries."

"Are_ you_ a _dottore_?"

Maura shook her head, "Oh, no, I couldn't."

"Why is that?" Gianna crooked her head, a black eye brow rising toward the sky.

"I am a woman," Maura replied, "it isn't proper,"

"Perhaps not in Eeengland," Gianna placed one hand on Maura's shoulder, "but here in _Venezia_, you can be whoever you please. I would take advantage of it before you go back to your Eeengland – if you decide to go back."

Maura looked at the hand on her shoulder and then into the eyes of its owner. "There are female doctors here?"

"No," Gianna checked her cup for any more droplets of wine. "But who is to say you cannot start something, eh?"


	3. Una notte veneziana

**A/N: I am astounded by the amount of followers and readers I have for this! I hope you enjoy the next instalment and feel free to leave any comments/reviews! Grazie! KC.**

Maura thought for a moment, her eyes gazing upon the cleft chin before her. "Oh, no…I couldn't possibly - "

"Ahh, Gianna!" The man with the lute wandered over, clearly inebriated.

"Frediano," Gianna laughed and clasped the man on his back, "you have had too much to drink, my friend."

"Oh no," He replied, lifting up a solid pewter mug to his dark lips, "I have only just begun." His tenor voice was thickly accented in an Arabic tone.

"Oh, Mauura, this is Bahadur Frediano," Gianna turned to Maura, once again a gloved had reaching out to her shoulder. "He and I often go on patrols together,"

"You are the Moor of which Mamma Rizzoli spoke," Maura smiled and took in the man that stood before her. Bahadur was about the same height as Gianna, dark skinned, and boyishly handsome. He wore dress similar to Gianna herself, but wore the traditional red fez of his Muslim religion.

"No one has called me a Moor in a long time," He laughed and hiccupped, "You are not from Venezia, no?"

"No," Maura watched as Gianna attempted to discreetly look at her hair, which was now whipping in the wind. "I am from London. Your English is very good, Signore Frediano."

"Ha, Frediano is too young to be a _signore_," Gianna laughed, "he is a _ser_, donna Isles."

"Oh," Maura blushed, "my apologies, Ser Frediano."

He brushed at the air with his hand. "No need for apologies. Listen, Gianna, I will see you tomorrow. I have some…wine to attend to." He glanced over his shoulder at two girls who giggled flirtatiously and waved.

"Ah, si, Frediano," Gianna smiled crookedly, something that caused Maura to openly clutch at her breast. After Frediano had stepped away, Gianna's attention turned back to her foreign guest. "Are you all right, donna Isles?"

Maura blushed and attempted to cover her embarrassment with a cough, "Oh yes, I-I just must have swallowed a bug. Must have been one of those horse flies that have been circling the food."

"Oh…?"

Maura nodded and swallowed. "Oh, yes. Definitely a horse fly."

"What is a 'horse flee'?"

"Oh," She looked about her, "see that insect there? That is a horse fly."

"Oh, those _fastidiosi insetti_!" Gianna folded her arms across her chest, which allowed Maura to see how thin she truly was. She found her mind wandering to what Gianna's undershirt would reveal…

"Yes, we call them horse flies because they tend to hover around horses," Maura smiled briefly and quickly nodded her head.

"Mhm," Gianna thought for a moment, "I do not think we have such a word in Italian – 'fly'."

"Well, I suppose you could use the English word," Maura suggested.

"Or I could teach you Italiano."

Maura could feel her heart leap up into her throat for a brief moment at the mere suggestion. Her eyes grew wide and she clasped her hands together. "_You_ would teach _me_?"

"Si, si," Gianna waved her hand as if it were nothing, "you would be able to talk to us all more well and if you are a _dottore_ then you must be intelligent."

"Oh, I am very intelligent," She admittedly, completely stoic.

"Ah, _anche molto umile_." Gianna rolled her eyes. _[Ah, very humble too.]_

"Have I said something wrong?" Maura's eyebrows scrunched up in worry.

"Oh, no, no," Gianna laughed and gave her a sarcastic answer, "_mi dispiace_,"

Maura smiled gently and unsurely and looked about her, noting now how few people remained in the courtyard. She could see Mamma Rizzoli speaking quietly with a man by the door to the Rizzoli home and whom she believed to be Tommaso doing a little more than wooing with a young woman in a shadowy corner.

"Mamma said you were sleeping," Gianna changed the subject, "have you slept well?"

"Why yes, I slept wonderfully." Maura replied with a big grin.

"Are you tired then?"

She thought for a moment, her finger tapping her full red lips. "No, I suppose I am not."

"Ah, then I shall give you a tour of Venezia, si?"

"Now?" Maura's eyes opened widely. "But…are there not rogues?"

"I am a member of the guard," Gianna put her hands proudly on her narrow hips, "you are safe with me – always remember that."

"Oh dear, Gianna, I cannot climb in this dress!"

She grinned devilishly. "Sure you can, the tower does not have many stairs and at the top there is a very short ladder,"

"Then _you_ must go first,"

She thought for a moment, "How do you say in Eeenglish? Women first?"

"We say 'ladies first'. Besides, we are both women, therefore it makes the statement null and void," Maura retorted; now folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, I don't know where to go."

Gianna's eyes narrowed as if to test the seriousness of Maura's statement. "Si, si, I will go up first. What, are you afraid I will look up your dress?"

"I would expect no such thing from a lady!" Maura gasped, her eyebrows forced down into a slight angered position.

"Oh, donna Isles, I am no _lady,_" Gianna laughed, unlocking the church door and allowing Maura in first. "You will come to see this shortly."

"You are certainly not a man," Maura chided, her eyes narrowing.

"Some would stretch to call me a knave," Gianna opened a second door which revealed a long set of rather winding stairs.

Maura had always been afraid of winding staircases and seeing this one was no exception. "Oh second thought, Gianna, perhaps you _should_ go behind me."

"Ah, second thoughts?" Gianna raised one eyebrow.

"No," Maura stepped through the doorway, "just a precaution in case I fall."

"Ah," Gianna watched as Maura began to climb the stairs, resting her right hand on her sword as she climbed as well. The way the elegant Londoner held up her dress with one hand and held onto the rope at the centre of the stairwell made her smile.

_Maura is beautiful, _Gianna told herself;_ she is the kind of woman we don't see around here often._

"How many stairs is it to the top?" Maura shakily asked.

"You have another fifty to go, donna Isles,"

"Fifty?"

"Si, but they are fast ones, no?"

Maura gently sighed and continued her way up the stairs, every time she turned she glanced back at Gianna whose dark eyes seemed to focus constantly on the centre of the stairwell. _Seems someone __else__ is afraid of these stairs too._

Once they reached the top of the stairwell, Maura found herself face to face with a door and a ladder that led up to a small trapdoor. She sighed and then took a deep breath.

"I will get the _botola_ and then help you up, si?" Gianna began to undo the thick leather belt that snaked its way around her narrow waist.

"Do you have to be undressed to do so?" Maura raised an eyebrow.

"No, no," The sword found itself at the top of the stairs. "I would just prefer not having to worry about fitting through the _botola_ with this on. It will be hard enough for you in all those…_gonne_."

Maura crossed her arms across her chest and stared quite fixedly at Gianna. There was a brief moment of silence between the two of them as Maura attempted to gauge the tone of Gianna's previous statement.

"Are you telling me to remove my skirt?"

Gianna jumped up on the ladder, now void of her doublet as well. "Oh, no, donna Isles. Just a _suggerimento_."

She immediately blushed and soon Gianna disappeared through the trapdoor. _I am __not__ taking off my skirts._

"Are you coming?" Gianna's curls popped through the door.

"Yes, just one moment," Maura released a great sigh and then prepared herself for a ladder. Her father had one at home in the library that she absolutely _loathed_. She took one step up and then soon found her footing, climbing rather shakily to the top.

"_Bene_, you're almost there," Gianna was smiling at her.

Maura took one more step and misjudged the distance to the next rung and let out a shrill scream but luckily Gianna's hand reached out fast enough to take her wrist. Maura looked up at the Venetian with a dumbfounded look on her face. Gianna was incredibly strong…

"Are you okay, donna Isles?" Gianna helped to lift her up through the trap door and set her right when they were finally on the roof of the tower.

"Y-Yes, thank you,"

"_Bene_," Gianna rested her hands on her hips. Maura took in the sight of Gianna Rizzoli standing before her in her tight black hosen, tall knee boots and a loosely fitting un-tucked undershirt. Gianna's sleeves were rolled up, showing two rather bare, sinewy, tanned olive arms. "So, this is Venezia…all that you can see."

The daydream ended when Maura registered Gianna's voice and felt her hand gently guiding her to the edge of the tower. The tower stood about 200 feet off the ground, offering a rather stunning moonlit view of Venice. Maura was never a lover of heights, but somehow she found herself comforted by Gianna's presence.

"So, you obviously know _San Marco_," Gianna gestured to the hard to miss basilica near the edge of the town. "See the big water there?" She pointed out towards a long canal snaking through the center of the city. "That's the _grande canal_, where all of the big ships come into Venezia. That is where my papa works."

"Your mother said what he did, but neglected to say where," Maura smiled. "Gianna, this is beautiful."

"Ah, si, si, _molto bella_. Venezia is unrivalled in beauty, no?" Gianna smiled turning her eyes toward Maura.

"Oh yes," Maura agreed. "I have never seen such beauty. London is not like this at all."

"What is London like?"

Maura chuckled. "Well, it is certainly a lot bigger than Venice."

"More like _Roma_?"

"Yes, I suppose it is more like Rome," Maura agreed, "and we have our own _grande canal_ called the Thames. It's filthy though, no one would want to swim in it…although the urchins do."

"'Urchins'?"

"Poor children,"

"Oh si, _ricci_," Gianna nodded in thought. "Have you _una basilica_?"

"Well, we have Westminster Abbey."

"'Abbeee'?"

"It's very big," Maura continued, "like _San Marco_, but a different architectural style altogether. Not nearly as old. _San Marco _is nearly a thousand years old, correct?"

"Si," Gianna replied, "_San Marco_ has been here longer than my family has."

"You were not always Venetians?"

She shook her head, "Papa says that long ago, my family came over from _Grecia_ to find a better way to make money than by herding sheep."

"Oh," Maura nodded, "I suppose this would make sense. I know most Italians have dark eyes, hair and skin, but most of the Venetians I have seen besides your family are lighter skinned."

"You compare me to a Moor?" Gianna laughed sarcastically.

"Not quite," Maura replied, "Moors are from southern Spain and Africa – you would be Greek or Mediterranean."

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Donna Isles, I do not know if you have a word for it in Eeenglish, but here we call it _sarcasmo_. I am joking with you, si?"

"'_Sarcasmo_'?" Maura thought for a moment, "Oh yes, sarcasm…I have never spoken to anyone that employed it."

"You are not speaking to _divertente_ people then," Gianna replied. "If you are going to live with _mia famiglia_, then you will have to get used to it."

"Well, if you are going to teach me Italian, why don't you teach me _sarcasmo_ too?"

Gianna let out a rather loud laugh that echoed across the church rooftop. "Donna Isles, _sarcasmo_ is not learned…you are born with it."

Once again, silence passed between the two of them. Maura looked down and into the streets of Venice watching a group of young boys laughing and conversing loudly with each other. Spending a night out under the stars in London like this was near impossible – if not incredibly dangerous as well.

"Gianna," Maura began, "what made you want to join the guards?"

She leaned on her elbows and focused down at the boys in the street as well. "_Mio padre_ always wanted his sons to be proud _soldati_…but his first was me. I am not interested in working on the docks, nor am I interested in being_ un cuoco _like my mother. When I was young, _mia mamma_ taught me how to cook and sew, but it was never something that was of true interest to me, _capito_?"

"Yes, of course,"

"I met _Sergente_ Korsak when I was just a girl and he inspired me," Gianna continued. "He is a _uomo buono_ and I can only hope to be as good a _soldato_ as he. _Il Doge_ was surprised to learn of a woman entering the guardhood, but when he found out who I was, _era tutto buono_." She laughed, her husky voice echoing again.

"No one questions you then?"

She shook her head. "No, no. If _ladri_ can be women, why can't _soldati_? Essentially, we are the same…just on different sides of _la legge_."

"I see your argument,"

"Mhm," Gianna smiled. The boys in the street had heard her laugh and were now looking up. In the wind, Gianna's loose hair whipped about, her raven curls attacking the air like tiny daggers. They had gazed up upon Maura and Gianna and when they saw what appeared to be two beautiful women…

"_Ciao, tesoro, come stai questa notte_?" One called up. _[Hey, baby, how are you tonight?]_

"_Lei è fuori dalla tua portata, ragazzo_." Gianna called back. _[She's out of your league, boy.]_

"_Allora come su di te, splendida_?" Another shouted up, the rest of the group laughing. _[Then how about you, gorgeous?]_

"_Vai a farti fottere_!" Gianna shouted back, raising her arm up. _[Go fuck yourself!]_

"_Sì ragazza testarda, che è quello che vorrei fare al tuo amico._." The second boy called out. _[Yeah tough-girl, that's what I'd like to do to your friend.]_

"_Non farmi venire lì e farti fottere, capito? Sono un membro della guardia_." Gianna shouted back one last time. _[Don't make me come down there and fuck you up, got it? I am a member of the guard.]_

They immediately whispered amongst themselves and hurried out of the street. Maura turned to Gianna to see her smiling rather proudly with herself.

"What were they saying?"

"Some not very kind things about a beautiful woman." Gianna replied.

"What were they saying about you, Gianna?"

She smirked and made her way over to the trapdoor. "Who says I was speaking of myself?"


	4. Il Ladro Sporco

**A/N: The Italian will be more sparse in upcoming chapters to show that Maura has learned a lot of the language from "Jane" – hence the reason why they may/may not sound slightly different (and why there is slightly less Italian!). KC. **

Weeks passed and Maura grew familiar with Venice and the Italian language. Once she and Gianna had begun their lessons, she took on the language almost instantly and was beginning to converse solely in Italian with most of the Rizzoli's.

Under Gianna's suggestion (and with her help) she spread the word that she was in fact a doctor and began operating out of the Rizzoli home. A few patients had been by to see the new female doctor as well as receive treatment from her. They were astounded by _dottore Isles_ gently and delicate hand as well as her pleasant demeanour.

"Maura?" Came Gianna's husky voice from the first floor of the Rizzoli house.

Maura was with a patient in her quarters…the man was not dying by any means and was being treated for gout on his foot. Maura was more than delighted to be saved from the stench of rotting toes by Gianna.

"Yes, Gianna?"

"Could you come downstairs?" She called back, her voice sounding tense.

"Are you all right?"

"I have been better,"

Maura stood up from her chair and excused herself from her patient who seemed quite angry with her for it. She shut the door behind her and slowly walked down the stairs, holding her skirts up.

"Gianna?"

"In the parlour,"

Maura pushed open the door and found Gianna seated on the table in the centre of the room, her doublet at her feet and a cloth clutched to her stomach. She turned to Maura, her tan olive skin flushed white and corpse-like.

"Gianna – what…?"

"Maura," Her dark eyes widened and she wore a frown, "I need your help,"

Maura ran to her side when Gianna fell toward the floor. She got to her just in time and pushed her up, laying her down on the table. "Oh my God Gianna, what happened?"

Maura could now see that the cloth clutched to her abdomen was soaked in blood. She moved it aside and found a hole in her white undershirt that provided a look at the rather large hole that now ravaged her abdomen.

"Frediano…we were out on a patrol…a man approached me and began to come on to me," She huffed, "I got angry with him, Maura…he said he didn't like it when I was angry."

"H-He stabbed you?"

She nodded, looking down at Maura. "Please Maura, it hurts."

"O-Oh, right," Maura was nervous…she had seen her father treat many, many stabbings – but never done so herself. "Can I lift up your shirt?"

"Whatever you need Maura, _per favore_."

Maura's gentle hands pulled at the Venetian's undershirt, lifting it just above the start of her ribcage. She gasped at the fact that blood covered Gianna's abdomen and the fact that she had never seen such a toned stomach. The cloth that Gianna had used to absorb some of the blood found its way into Maura's hands as she gently wiped away the excess blood.

"This may hurt," She began to wipe over and in the knife entry.

Gianna screamed out in pain, her back arching in pain. Maura could feel Gianna's pulse quicken and she felt a lump immediately form in her throat.

"Oh God Gianna, I-I can't." She put pressure on the wound.

"Maura please," She looked at her, her eyebrows scrunched in pain. "I-I trust you."

Over the past few weeks, their bond had grown immensely. When Gianna wasn't on patrol or Maura wasn't with a patient, they spent all their time together; but for Gianna to tell her that she trusted her…that was a huge thing to Maura.

"I will do my best, Gianna, all right?" Maura held one of Gianna's hands…the other still putting pressure on the wound. "I need needle and thread."

"Mamma's sewing – in the kitchen."

"Do you think you can walk there?"

Gianna nodded. _She's so strong…oh Gianna…_

Maura helped her into the kitchen; surprising Francesco who was enjoying some toasted ciabatta. He immediately stood up and helped Gianna to the kitchen table, pushing off all the dishes so she could lie down.

"_Cristo_ Gianna, what happened?"

"It's not important right now, Francesco," Maura retorted, "will you hand me your mamma's needle and thread?"

Francesco stumbled over a few plates but quickly handed Maura the needle and thread.

"Is there a candle somewhere?" Maura asked quickly.

"In the dining room, I'll get it." He hurried through the door on the other side of the kitchen.

Gianna was slipping in and out of consciousness from blood loss and she looked with hazy eyes at Maura. "I really, really trust you, Maura."

"I trust you too, Gianna," Maura felt hot tears stinging her cheeks, "you will be all right, I promise."

"I trust you…"

* * *

_Three weeks earlier_.

When Maura awoke on a particularly hot day, she was surprised to find Frediano in the kitchen alone. He looked at her briefly and then raised a cautious eyebrow.

"_Dottore_ Maura Isles, si?" He grinned.

"Yes," She sat beside him, "I think we met about a week ago…you were slightly intoxicated so I don't know if you recall me?"

"No, no," He flashed a full mouth of bright white teeth, "I could not forget a face like yours. You look like one of the angels on the dome of _San Marco_."

"Oh, _grazie_, Ser Frediano." Maura blushed lightly and began gnawing on some bread.

"Frediano, you are here awfully early," Mamma Rizzoli appeared from the dining room. "Are you and Gianna on patrol?"

"Not today, Signora Rizzoli," He shook his head; sipping from the cup he had in his dark hands. "I just had one question for Gianna."

"She is not awake yet?" Angela asked.

"Not that I have seen,"

Angela stepped outside of the kitchen and as soon as the door closed shouted, "_Gianna, il tuo culo magro fuori dal letto e vieni in cucina, ora_!" _[Gianna, get your skinny ass out of bed and into the kitchen, now!]_

"_Si, signora!_" Came Gianna's quick reply and a thud.

Maura laughed under her breath and smiled, knowing that Angela's shout had probably scared Gianna out of bed, and taking a cup of boiled water and honey from Frediano. He offered a toast, "To the beauty of the day,"

"How lovely," Maura smiled and took a sip from the cup. Angela and Gianna stepped into the kitchen, obviously arguing with each other in hushed Italian. Gianna was still buttoning up her doublet as she sat down beside Maura.

"_Buon giorno_, Maura and Frediano," She greeted, taking some bread and butter. Her husky voice was particularly deep with sleep. "How have you both slept?"

The conversation continued with passing questions before Gianna and Frediano began discussing something in Italian. Maura could see that whatever the topic was bothered Gianna, but could also tell it was something she needed to discuss with Frediano. When he finished telling her what he knew (Maura could figure out from his tone that he had found out some information about someone), he stood, kissed Maura on both her cheeks, clasped Gianna on the back, and embraced Angela before exiting the Rizzoli house.

"They call Frediano '_Il Fantasma_'," Gianna told me, hungrily devouring her food – mixed vegetables from Angela's exquisite garden behind the house. "'The Ghost'," She continued, "Frediano can find out anything that goes on in this city without anyone knowing he was there. Of course, when it gets back to the target they all claim that '_un fantasma deve aver ascoltato alla loro porta_'." She smiled, biting her lip and fighting a smirk. _[a ghost must have been listening at their door.]_

"That is quite…stunning." Maura replied, warming her cold hands with the water and honey.

"Mhm," She wiped her face with her shirtsleeve, "Maura, do you drink?"

"Well yes, I am drinking now," She stated matter-of-factly.

Gianna chuckled. "No, I mean _alcool_."

"Oh," Maura blushed lightly. "I never really have, but I do adore wine."

Gianna stood up and began clipping her sword that she had placed beside her around her waist. She grabbed Maura under the arm and pulled her up, "Come, I know a very good place."

"Oh Gianna, is it safe?"

Gianna held the door open for Maura, "You are with me, Maura…of course it is."

* * *

_Later that day…_

"'_Il Ladro Sporco_?"

"Si, si," Gianna pushed Maura inside the small pub, "just go in."

Maura and Gianna sat up at the bar of the low-ceilinged, open front pub and were immediately helped by the bartender. Gianna ordered for them both and soon the man placed a nice glass of sweet red wine before Maura and a big flagon of _birra_ before Gianna.

"What does '_Il Ladro Sporco'_ translate to, Gianna?"

Gianna took a huge gulp. "'The Dirty Thief,'" She replied.

"A _guard_ goes to a pub called _The Dirty Thief_?" Maura looked at her, sipping gently from her glass.

"It is the best pub in Venezia, as far as I'm concerned," Gianna finished her beer, turning the flagon upside down. "_Barista, un altro!_"

Maura simply shook her head and continued to nurse her wine. The door to the pub quickly opened and a few men came in, distracting Maura from hearing Gianna swearing under her breath.

"_Oh Gianna, la mia donna preferita bella. Sembri calda_!" A tall, rather attractive man about Gianna's age approached us, followed closely by Marco and Tommaso. He had this awkward smile across his unshaven face and Maura noted his dirty, ragged clothes. He, like Gianna, had dark hair and eyes and a rather hooked Roman nose and tanned olive features. _[Oh Gianna, my favourite beautiful woman. You look hot.]_

"_Buon giorno_, Giovanni," Maura could see through Gianna's fake smile.

"Who is your _un'amica_?"

"_Lei non è il tuo tipo, Giovanni_," Gianna snapped. _[She's not your type, Giovanni.]_

"Oh Gianna, it's okay," Maura turned and smiled at him, "I am Maura Isles,"

"Oh!" He winked, "You are foreign – I like foreign."

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Giovanni - "

"Your physique is quite spectacular, signore Giovanni," Maura began, "what is your job?"

"_I riparare le barche_." He replied, "_Hai un aspetto caldo, Maura_." He smirked. _[I repair ships.] [You look hot, Maura.]_

"_Grazie_?" Maura was unsure of what he said, but he smiled and she supposed it was kind.

"_Maura_," Gianna rolled her eyes. "It was nice to see you Giovanni, good day."

Gianna once again picked Maura up from under the arm, which caused her to drop her wine glass and shout Gianna's name. She took her out into the busy Venice streets and sighed.

"Maura, stay away from Giovanni," Gianna warned.

"Why? He seems quite affectionate,"

"Do you want to be showered with the same _complimenti_ day after day?" Gianna expressed, "He is _molto noioso_ and how do you always call it? Not 'intellectually stimulating'?"

"Well sure," Maura replied, gently massaging her arm where Gianna had previously grasped it so sharply. "I would not be after him for his mind."

"You shouldn't be after him at all, Maura."

Maura grinned devilishly. "Do I sense jealousy, Gianna?"

Gianna immediately blushed and then rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "N-No, you do not."

"Mhm," Maura continued to smile, "is it _him_ you are jealous of? Or _me_?"

* * *

Ever since that day where Giovanni interrupted Maura's time with Gianna at _Il Ladro Sporco_, things were different between them. Maura had noticed that Gianna's pupils dilated more often while gazing at her; Gianna noticed subtle glances from Maura when doing physical labour – surely Maura's doctor's eyes watching her musculature move.

At a time like now, when Gianna lay still in her bed, Maura watched her breathe – her muscled stomach gently moving up and down. Maura had bandaged the stab wound and earlier had removed the packing that soaked up excess blood. She had successfully cleaned the wound and now it was a matter of time in order to see if her cleansing had staved off infection. She sat in a chair at Gianna's bedside, her eyes trained on a medical manual given to her by a doctor she had recently spoke with.

_Victims with stab wounds should be watched over several days to ensure that the wound does not grow infected. At the sight of excessive redness, wash the wound with rose water and wipe dry with a clean linen cloth. At the sight of puss…_

"M-Maura," Gianna gently whispered, her eyes scrunched in pain. By now she had been asleep for nearly five hours.

Maura set aside her book and sat by Gianna's side on her bed. "I'm here, Gianna."

"Maura, _penso che sto innamorando di te_." She murmured, semi-consciously.

"Gianna, I cannot understand you." Maura frowned, taking Gianna's hand.

"_Non potrei mai dirti che ti amo…lo so che non lo accetterebbe. Quindi mi siederò ad aspettare e guardare te, mia dolce signora inglese_."

Maura frowned, but thought she understood the last part of her sentence. _Oh God…what if Gianna…_

"_Maura, so che non mi puoi capire…so che ci sono. Posso sentire sentire la tua mano_."

"Gianna, I am so sorry my dear, I cannot understand you," Maura was practically on the verge of tears.

"_Io non so le parole per divulgare il mio amore per te in inglese. Mi dispiace tanto_."

Maura noticed that a small tear had dribbled down Gianna's high cheekbones, tracing her olive skin and narrow neck. She leaned down and gently placed a kiss on Gianna's forehead and as she pulled back –

"Stay with me," She whispered, clear as the blue sky outside.

"I would not leave you," Maura whispered back.

"Lie with me?"

Maura placed herself beside Gianna and under the woollen blanket. Gianna's eyes never opened, but her hand snaked down Maura's arm and intertwined her fingers with the English lady's. Maura adjusted her body so she could watch Gianna, her eyes gazing at the cleft chin she found so endearing.

"I adore you, Gianna Rizzoli."

**A/N: So today marks the official start of Rizzleness…there will be plenty more to come – as well as a few people we all **_**love**_** to **_**hate**_**. Chapter 5 will be up soon! Molto bene! KC.**

**A/N2: I post updates on my Tumblr for those of you who wish to follow me on there for updates and other things – please search for amodernknight! KC.**


	5. La Laguna di Venezia

**A/N: OMG guys, thank you so much for all of the great reviews – it totally means a lot to me! It makes me so happy that you all enjoy this so much! Please enjoy chapter five and keep up those reviews! I apologize for the wait on this one…I was busy at a Red Sox game (which they won!) and my brother came down to visit for my birthday! KC.**

"Maura," Came the faint whisper in a honey hair covered ear. "Maura, it is nearly midday, come, wake up."

Maura was laying on her side, her curls strung about in no particular order, her body tucked in the fetal position. She opened one hazel eye and saw that Gianna was smiling at her – her previously white face now restored to its olive tone. She looked tired, and one of her eyes had taken on the shade of a black eye, which only caused her beautiful, deep chocolate eyes to resonate with Maura more.

"How long have you been up?" She smiled, biting her lip.

"Oh, I do not know, perhaps three days?" Gianna joked, "You have been asleep for a _long_ time, Maura."

At this, Maura immediately sat up and frantically looked about, her eyes searching every corner. "Oh Gianna, why didn't you wake me? How is your wound? Have patients been here to see me? Wait, have I received any - "

Gianna's warm hand touched Maura's cheek and she smiled, her eyes gazing deeply into surprised hazel ones. Gianna's hand was almost too much for the English woman, her knees growing slightly weak under the touch. "Maura, I only joke with you." Her hand moved to Maura's shoulder.

"_Sarcasmo_?"

"_Sarcasmo._" Gianna smirked. "I honestly only woke up because I am hungry."

"What time is it?"

She shrugged. "I heard the bell tower chime for the half hour, but I am not sure."

"Well, regardless of what time it is, after losing as much blood as you did you should definitely eat." Maura smiled.

"Are you not hungry?"

"I am slightly famished, yes." She reached for her coin purse, but Gianna's hand took hers.

"No, _dottore_," She began, "you saved my life – I will buy you this meal."

In the _Piazza San Marco_, there was a small café adjacent to the ancient basilica. It was early morning – around seven – so Gianna and Maura found themselves lounging casually at a small table over bellini.

Maura watched the pigeons gather in the _piazza_ and watched the children of Venice play with them. She smiled and took a bite from the cheese bruschetta they had just ordered.

"Gianna, would you have children?"

She shrugged, tearing through the cheesy bread. "Oh, I do not know. I suppose maybe someday I will, but I have no feelings on children. Some annoy me, some I adore – like Marco. Marco is only sixteen, did you know?"

"He is?" Maura was surprised. "He is quite mature for his age."

"Si," Gianna replied, "he will one day be a great _soldato_ as well. _Sergente_ Korsak has taken him under his wing as he did with me once."

"Are _all_ soldiers who study under Sir Korsak great?" Maura smirked, a small flirt escaping her lips.

"Eh, perhaps!" Gianna missed what Maura had intended at first. "But _I_ am among the best."

"So I saved the hero of Venice, no?" Maura chuckled.

Gianna chugged the rest of the bellini and ordered another. "Yes, without me surely the city would sink and the _ladri_ would invade. It would be a disaster, Maura." She winked.

"You woo me, Gianna," Maura admitted.

"I?" Gianna clutched her breast dramatically. "No, not _I_."

"I think you do,"

"Well, if you like it – I shall continue, si?"

Maura reached across the table and rested her hand on Gianna's. "I _adore_ it."

"So you enjoy me?" Gianna blushed. "Perhaps that did not come out right, _mi dispiace_."

Maura blushed as well, but her hand did not leave Gianna's. "I do enjoy you – especially your company."

"Then Maura," Gianna smiled, her fingers twisting between the blonde's. Maura felt her heart skip a beat; suddenly she was breathless with the palm-to-palm contact. "I wish to show you something tonight, si?"

"Anything, Gianna."

"I must speak with _Sergente_ Korsak, but I will meet you at _San Marco_ at sunset tonight, si?"

"Yes, but please be careful – your wound is still susceptible to infection and your stitches are fragile." Maura's eyes grew concerned.

"Of course, _mia donna_, I will be fine."

* * *

"Gianna, there you are,"

Gianna stepped into the low ceilinged office with dark wooden walls and a light marble floor. _Sergente_ Korsak sat at his desk before he stood up to clasp one of his finest _soldati_ on the arm.

"Doge Cavallaro has been wondering about you since Frediano reported your injury last night," The shorter man said, scratching his white-goateed chin. "How are you?"

"I am fine, Korsak," She replied, her voice soft. "I can go on patrols."

"The Doge thinks you should rest for a few days," Korsak replied, "I think _Dottore _Isles would also agree with him,"

"But, what about the man who stabbed me?" She asked, "Frediano, has he any leads on him?"

"Of course – he's gathering more about him." Korsak opened up a file and handed Gianna a wanted poster.

"Carlo Houssam?" Gianna raised an eyebrow. "That's his name?"

"_Tak_," Korsak replied, "He is an Arab loyalist from Constantinople – a man who believes in fighting a war that has been over for many years."

"Trying to get us back for sacking his town a couple centuries ago?" Gianna asked. The Venetian crusaders in the 13th century sacked Constantinople on their way to the Holy Land. "Why did he target me?"

"Frediano does not know yet…but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that you are _kobieta_."

"Korsak, you know I do not speak _polacco_."

"Ah, _przepraszam, przepraszam_. That you are a woman,"

She sighed. "Oh…"

"Lay low for a few days, Rizzoli," He told her, putting one of his meaty hands on her shoulder. "Houssam will still be on the loose when you come back. Frediano is good, but he is _fantastico _with you."

"Fine; but if he finds anything else, please tell him to let me know, _si_?"

Korsak nodded. "Yes, of course…I will let Frediano know to keep you informed."

"_Grazie_, _sergente_."

* * *

Maura had been casually relaxing in the courtyard outside of the Rizzoli house, her nose in a book and a quill in her hand. She sat quietly humming and taking notes on yet another book she had received as a gift from the Venetian doctors.

"_Ehi_, Maura," Tommaso approached, his thumbs tucked into his belt. "How are you today?"

"Oh, hello Tomma," She smiled. "I am very well; you?"

He shrugged, "Not too bad. What are you reading?"

"_Historia Italiae et Orientem Medium medicis_." She replied.

"_Mi scusi_?" Tommaso raised an eyebrow much like Gianna did.

"A history book about herbs and their uses," Maura replied, "it is very helpful in allowing me to identify the herbs and plants here in Venice that I have never seen before."

"Oh, _si_, wouldn't want to give someone hemlock by accident?"

"Oh I assure you Tommaso, I know exactly what hemlock looks like. It is very common in England, and I have seen many hemlock poison victims." She replied quite simply, gazing up toward the sky. The clouds were beginning to settle and as she stood up, she suddenly smiled. "You will have to excuse me, I am meeting someone at _San Marco_ at dusk."

"Oh, have you found _un fidanzato_?" Tommaso folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh no, no," She blushed.

"Then why don't you join me for bellini tonight after your meeting?" Suddenly, Tommaso was closer than any man had ever been to Maura. She took a deep breath and her heart pounded. She didn't like him this close – something felt uncomfortable about it.

"I don't know how long I'll be, Tommaso,"

"I can wait for you, _donna_," He smiled, his hand taking Maura's cheek.

She pulled away, "Thank you Tommaso, but no. Have a good night."

With that, Maura stormed off, too upset to even remember to put her book back on its safe and clean shelf.

* * *

"Tommaso did _what_?" Gianna shouted, the remainder of the people in the streets now looking at her.

"Gianna, hush," Maura whispered, "I guess now it isn't much of a big deal, but at the time he frightened me. It isn't often a man comes on to me like that."

"_Cazzo_," Gianna huffed. "I will definitely have a talk with him."

"Please Gianna, it isn't necessary – I think it would be better if we just left it alone, all right?"

Gianna sighed heavily, "_Si, si_, all right. I wont say anything."

Maura reached out and gently caressed her arm, "Thank you, Gianna."

They walked in silence for a few moments before Gianna turned down a side street, Maura warily following her. Her father had warned her of the narrow alleyways of Venice and the name of this one did not help – _Rio Tera dei Assassini_.

At the end of the alley was a small gondola, Gianna smiling and gesturing toward it. "Get in,"

"Where are we going…?"

"Just get in, _si_?"

Maura obliged her Venetian friend and sat down facing the rear of the gondola. Gianna climbed in behind her standing at the rear and latching on to the oar.

"_You_ aren't steering, correct?"

"Of course _I_ am,"

"Gianna!" Maura's eyes grew worried, "Your stitches?"

"Oh hush, Maur," She smiled, "I have been rowing my whole life, I can do this, _si_?"

"Please be careful…"

"Anything for you, _dottore_."

Gianna pushed off the bottom of the canal as Maura turned an incredibly deep shade of red and turned her face to be away from Gianna's. Gianna began humming rather loudly and it caused Maura to grin wildly and bite her lower lip.

The only sound was the oar on the lagoon and Gianna's husky voice humming away as they made their way out to an unoccupied spot. Gianna held the gondola to a stop and left the oar in its rest, sitting down across from Maura after taking an olive tinted glass bottle of red wine from the compartment just below where she was standing.

"This is a _Montepulciano_ that I picked up in _Milano_," She began, uncorking the wine and beginning to pour it in two pewter goblets. "I was saving it for an _momento importante_,"

"Does this classify as one of those, _signora _Rizzoli?"

"_Signora Rizzoli_ is _mia_ mamma," Gianna chuckled.

"I suppose she is," Maura took a big sip of the wine Gianna had poured for her, "Oh, this is quite fantastic, Gianna."

"I knew you would enjoy it," She smiled, "but the best part is just beginning,"

Maura looked up at the sky and watched as the moon rose up and over the lagoon, casting its pale shadow toward them. She gasped, one hand clutched to the goblet, the other reaching for Gianna, resting gently on her thigh.

"Oh, uhh, Maur?" Gianna blushed.

Maura hadn't realized where her hand had drifted to, but when she did, she immediately took it away, blushing even deeper. "I apologize, Gianna."

"Mhm," Gianna finished her cup.

"What made you decide to bring me here?"

"A beautiful woman should appreciate a beautiful city," She smiled, "one of my favorite views of _Venezia_ is from this very spot – look back – can you see _San Marco's_ bell tower?"

Sure enough, the bell tower appeared on the horizon and just faintly could Maura make out the chimes for nine o'clock. "Have you brought many people out here?"

"Oh no," Gianna replied, filling her goblet and Maura's again, "just you. I do not share this place with many."

"Why is that?"

She shrugged. "I find it special…just like I find you."

"We both are really," Maura began, "we are the only women in our chosen fields, and both rather good at what we do."

"Oh _si, I_ am," Gianna smiled, "but you Maur? I don't know…perhaps mediocre at _best_."

Maura finally understood the sarcastic Gianna and in what she felt was good judgment, moved herself closer to the Venetian and rested her head on her shoulder. "Thank you Gianna – for bringing me here."

"_Si_," Gianna's long arm found its way around Maura's narrow waist. "It is my absolutely pleasure."

They sat in silence for long moments, both focusing on the moon's slow rise and the relaxing lull of the ocean that mimicked their breathing. Maura's head soon found its way in Gianna's lap, and Gianna began running her long, narrow fingers through the luscious blonde locks.

"How is it that you get your hair so soft, Maura?"

She shrugged, "I comb it often I suppose,"

"I should do that with mine," One hand ran through Gianna's tangled curls.

"No, no," Maura smiled, her eyes focused on Gianna's, "don't change your hair – I think it is lovely."

"In that case, I will not," Gianna smiled and interweaved her fingers through one of Maura's free hands. "_Donna_ Isles, you _si dovrebbe essere uno principessa inglese il modo di guardare._"

Maura chuckled. "That's very sweet of you Gianna, but I do not carry the royal bloodline,"

"You shouldn't have to," Gianna replied, "you should just be able to be a _principessa_…or maybe a _regina_. What is most likely though is that you are _un angelo mandato da San Marco a guidare me essere una persona migliore_." _[an angel sent by Saint Mark himself to guide me to be a better person.]_

Maura's heart raced and she quickly sat up, one arm supporting her body weight upon the small gondola. She gazed deeply into Gianna's eyes, her lips slightly parted in awe. "Oh Gianna, that was gorgeous."

"Then you understood me?"

She nodded. "Of course I did,"

"Then I think _si dovrebbe baciarmi_." Gianna smirked.

"Gladly,"

Maura's lips quivered lightly before her nose even reached Gianna's. She could feel Gianna's larger hand grasping her at the base of her head, her fingers in her hair as their lips finally met. Maura placed her hand on Gianna's waist, grasping at her shirt for support while their lips fought a lover's battle in which no victor would ever be declared.

"I could never tire of these," Gianna kissed her softly again, teasing at Maura's gentle lips.

"Neither could I," Maura whispered back, one hand tracing Gianna's jawline.

Gianna lay back on the gondola and looked up at the stars, her arms ushering in Maura to gaze with her. By now the moon had risen to its crown and showered the ladies in a warm bath of eager light.

"May we just lay here for awhile?" Maura asked, snuggling up into Gianna's shoulder. "I don't want to go back to the city yet."

"As long as you please, Maura," Gianna kissed her forehead, "as long as the wine doesn't run out."


	6. Houssam

**A/N: I'm so sorry again for the long wait – work has been KILLING me this week. It's been so insanely busy and I've been working really weird hours…any who…here's the next installment – enjoy! As a warning, this chapter is slightly heavier than before. KC.**

The blonde could feel warmth around her as if the sun had fully engulfed her with his glorious rays. Soon, the heat was beginning to take over her and force her into a rather uncomfortable state.

She slowly opened her hazel eyes and peered about her, taking in the olive green water, dark wood gondola and a rather childlike sleeping Gianna Rizzoli.

_We slept in the lagoon all night…together._

Slowly, Maura sat up and took in her further surroundings. There were fishing boats around them preparing to cast their lines for the day's catch. She could see to the _piazza_ and saw many people wandering about near the basilica. From the heat of the sun and its high position in the sky she determined it was perhaps noon.

"_Ehi_, Maura!"

She turned around and found Francesco rowing toward her in a similar gondola. He was dressed rather casually and sweat stained his natural muslin shirt. "How are you today?"

"Quite confused,"

"Oh?" He stopped his gondola and rested his chin on the top of the oar.

Gianna suddenly stirred and when she realized where she was, sat up in sheer panic. She latched on to the oar, but couldn't go anywhere with her brother's little boat in the way. When she realized that both Maura and Francesco were looking at her with confused faces, she rolled her eyes.

"_Che_, Francesco?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Mamma's been looking for you," He told her, still resting his square chin on the oar. "Been worried."

"Well, if you would move your _stupida barca_ then I could get to her,"

"_Bene, bene ... maleducata questa mattina, eh_?"

"I am not rude, I am in a hurry." Gianna put one of her booted feet on Francesco's gondola and pushed him out of the way. She nearly tipped his boat over before pushing off the ground with her own oar.

Maura remained silent as she watched Gianna row the gondola back down a canal and near the Rialto before she cleared her throat.

"_Si?_"

"About last night…"

"_Si_, Maura?"

"Anything to say about it?"

"I have a bad headache," Gianna sighed, taking long rows with her oar, "but part of it would be soothed with a nice…kiss."

Maura instantly blushed and looked about them as Gianna pulled the gondola to a stop near a small dock. The taller woman helped Maura onto shore and quickly pulled her into her long arms, their noses touching.

"You think I would have forgotten a kiss?"

"You did have quite a bit to drink," Maura admitted.

"_Si_, but never enough to forget about you,"

Maura closed her eyes as she felt Gianna's lips touch hers again. This kiss was different – sober, patient, and engulfing. Maura's arms naturally arched around Gianna's long neck when she felt the Venetian's warm hands on the small of her back.

"Should we be doing this in broad daylight?"

"See anyone around to stop us?"

"No,"

Maura initiated the kiss this time, her small hands running through Gianna's raven locks, her lips trying to take every inch of the Italian's. Just as the kiss was becoming passionate, Gianna heard the light smack of the waves against the mortar in the canal and looked away.

A man was looking at them from a gondola, his thin body cloaked in black robes, a dangerous smirk on his pale, wrinkled face. Gianna immediately felt endangered and took Maura by the hand and led her away from the canal.

"What's wrong?"

Her chocolate eyes searched the empty street for signs of life. "That man – on the gondola – I didn't like his look."

"I didn't see him,"

"_Bene_," Gianna told her, holding Maura's fingers as they walked the street. "His face was not one a beautiful girl like yours should see."

Maura blushed, her eyes turning away from Gianna as they walked. A few moments of silence fell between them before Maura sighed and turned to the Venetian.

"What have you to do today?"

Gianna thought for a moment, their hands' embrace breaking. "I should really go report the man to the _sergente_. He looks like the one who did this to me," She put one hand over her stomach.

"Do you think it was him?"

"I don't know, his face was masked."

They continued in silence again, but Maura took Gianna's hand back in hers.

Once they reached the small courtyard where the Rizzoli home was, they broke apart and stood before each other by the well.

"I want to look at your wound again – before you see the _sergente_."

"Maura, it's not necessary."

Maura's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms across her chest. "Gianna."

Gianna's chocolate eyes narrowed too, her olive arms finding a way across her chest as well. "Maura."

"It wasn't a question," Maura retorted. "Now please, let me look at it."

* * *

Frediano stepped into the _sergente's_ office and found the middle-aged man at his desk, his nose poking through several papers. He cleared his throat and sat down.

"Ah, Frediano," Korsak's eyes searched for the emotion the man may have been feeling, "I did not even hear you enter."

"I can be silent when I wish," Frediano replied, his voice casual. "I may have found the man who hurt Gianna."

"How sure are you?"

"Very," He replied, his eyes now turning away from his superior. "I followed Gianna when she came back into the city – she was with _Dottore_ Isles. A man was following them on his gondola, robed in black. He was muttering nonsense to himself, but I recognized his form from the street attack."

"So it's Houssam?"

Frediano nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Did Gianna see him?"

Frediano sighed. "Yes, she did. I know how she is, Korsak…she will hunt him down."

"I will not allow that," Korsak's door opened and allowed in a rather breathless soldier.

"_Sergente_, a woman has been found in _San Marco's_."

"So…?"

"_Dead_, _ser_."

Korsak immediately stood up and took his sword from the side of his desk. "Witnesses?"

"None, _sergente_."

Frediano stood as well. "I will alert Gianna, she will want to see this."

"Yes, do that and meet us at _San Marco_." Korsak headed toward the door. "If there is a murder in _Venezia_, Frediano…"

"Don't leap to conclusions, Korsak."

Frediano followed the two men out of the office and into the streets of Venice. He began his silent trek to Gianna's house when they met halfway. He called out her name and she turned to him.

"Gianna, we need you at _San Marco's_," He told her as he escorted her toward the basilica.

"I need to see the _sergente_ though," She told him, wary of his escort.

"He will be there,"

"Frediano, I saw him."

Frediano nodded. "I saw him too, I have already told Korsak."

Gianna's heart skipped a beat. "You…followed me?"

"To protect you,"

"Then you saw…?"

Frediano smiled. "No one will know, Gianna…you can trust in me."

* * *

The basilica's ancient walls echoed with the sound of leather footsteps on the cold stone floors. The tall ceilings were lit only by a few idle chandeliers and the halls by the few candelabras that were allowed. A woman was lying dead in a side chapel, her lifeblood staining the floor and her blonde hair.

Some of the guards stood and protected people from entering the church, others at the site of the murder. When Gianna and Frediano finally arrived, they found Korsak kneeling at her side.

"No one heard her scream," He told them. "They did it in the middle of high mass."

Frediano gazed at the woman for a minute before noting the thick, bloody gash across her thin neck – he turned away. "الدم الكثير بالنسبة لي في التعامل معها."

Gianna looked at him, knowing that blood was not a favorite of his. For a man whose life depended on drawing the blood of others, it was an odd fear but she accepted it. "Frediano, it's all right. Will you do me a favor?"

"Si,"

"Go to my home and stay there until I get back." Gianna replied, passing two of her fellows. "Please?"

He simply nodded and stepped away.

"Frediano told me he saw the man again,"

Gianna squatted down to get a better look at the woman. "He told me he did as well. I saw him too, Korsak."

"Don't go after him, _capito_?"

"Korsak…"

"That is an order," He gazed at her. "I need you on protection detail if this indeed is a murder, and it sure seems to be."

"Protection of who?"

He stood up and ordered the guards to cover the body and remove it from the church. "Yourself and your family. Stay at home, Gianna."

"Korsak, this man needs to be found."

"I think this man is Houssam," Korsak replied. "He is the one who did this to this woman _and_ to you."

"How are you sure?"

"When I first came to _Venezia_, there were murders that went on for weeks and then they just stopped," He began, "No one could find the man who did it – they were exactly like this. This is when I first identified Houssam and the possibility that it was he. He has returned."

Gianna watched as the soldiers picked up the woman's body and began to carry it away. "What do I do?"

"Like I said, protect your family and yourself." He told her. "Make sure _Dottore_ Isles looks at that wound of yours – daily. I will have Frediano keep you updated, _si_?"

"_Si, sergente_."

"Go home – eat – sleep – have a few _bellini_." Korsak told her, a small smile forced on his face. "Things will be just fine."

Gianna nodded and looked him in the eye. "_Si_, but if this Houssam comes anywhere close to me, _sergente_, nothing is stopping me from killing him."

"I never said not to, Gianna."

**A/N: I apologize for the short chapter! I will try and make the next chapter come sooner rather than later – I apologize again for the gap. Please continue to review! POLL: Let me know if there's a character you would like me to add! KC.**


	7. Timore

**A/N: My loves! I'm so sorry for the delayed posting…five people quit at my job and I have therefore been picking up their slack and working 38-40 hour work weeks…not to mention that I have been wheeling and dealing and finally got my fingers on my first horse! Anyway, here is the next chapter, which may or may not have a trigger warning. KC.**

Maura had already fallen fast asleep by the time Gianna had arrived home, but this didn't stop her from awaking when the slight door to her room creaked open.

Gianna found herself pacing, the moonlight shining gently on her olive skin, her fingers fidgeting wildly in anticipation. Her nerves were tried, her eyes bloodshot, her lips chapped from being bitten so often.

A few weeks had passed from Houssam's first attack, but he had struck again…three times more. The second woman was from the rising middle class, the third a noble, the fourth – the Doge's daughter. His attacks were getting more and more serious and it seemed no one was safe. Gianna had restless nights watching over Maura to ensure the Englishwoman wasn't taken from her in the middle of the night.

"Gianna, come to bed," Maura's sweet voice echoed softly.

"I cannot sleep," She peered out the window.

"Then at least lie down," Maura sat up and gathered the wool blanket about her. "I'm very cold, I need your warmth, please?"

Gianna sat at Maura's feet and let out a small sigh. The lighter woman pushed her slight weight forward and rested her head on Gianna's thin but strong shoulder.

"He bothers you a lot, doesn't he?"

She nodded.

"Gianna, Frediano and Korsak wont let him get to you,"

"I don't worry about myself," She whispered, "I worry about you, _mia amore_."

Maura blushed and Gianna looked at her, her chocolate eyes kind and restless.

"Gianna, someone needs your help in the square," Came Francesco's voice from outside the door.

"Huh?" She immediately stood and slipped on her boots, her eyes not leaving Maura's.

"It's our neighbour, Carla, one of her friends said she saw a man with a knife by the gate."

"Gianna, do you have to go now?" Maura quietly asked.

"If we are in danger and it _is_ Houssam, I must," She leaned over Maura and placed a quick kiss on her lips, "I will be back before sunrise, I promise."

"Don't break that."

Gianna Rizzoli placed her hand on the doorknob and turned back to Maura, a big smirk on her thin lips, her chocolate eyes glowing in the moonlight. "That I would never do."

* * *

"He went that way, through the gate and toward _San Marco_," Carla told her, her hands all tied up in nerves and jitters. "I screamed when I saw the _stiletto_, but I didn't know what else to do but to get one of you. Francesco came out when he heard me scream and I told him that I saw the man, but I didn't - "

"_Grazie_, Carla, I will take care of it," Gianna placed a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder before stepping out of view and into the night. She knew Carla could speak for hours on end without stopping and therefore decided to cut her off short. If she were lucky, Houssam could not have gotten too far.

A scream echoed from a neighbouring alleyway.

Gianna rushed down the alley drawing her sword from its sheath. The iron blade tickled the air as she ran to find a woman, unattended, her corset ripped.

"_Polizia_," Gianna announced, "What happened?"

"A man, he attacked me, but I screamed," She began to cry. "He went off that way, follow me, I will show you."

The woman stood up and with somewhat surprising vigour led Gianna down the winding alleyways. The woman finally reached what she seemed to believe was the destination and turned around, a new emotion in her eyes – slyness.

"Silly Gianna, you fell right into the trap," Came a male voice from the shadows of the dead end.

Gianna rushed to push her sword tip into the blackness that surrounded her. "Where are you?!"

Laughter. "Oh, I think you know where I am."

"Show yourself, Houssam!"

Dead silence. The woman slipped away unnoticed. "I am in your head, Gianna…I have no need to show myself."

The last thing Gianna felt was a pair of cold hands around her neck before she hit the ground.

* * *

When Maura awoke, she gently bathed her face like any other morning and changed her clothes. She headed downstairs to where she figured she would find the Rizzoli family laughing and eating like any other day.

Everyone was silent as she walked through the door.

"Where is Gianna?" She somewhat demanded.

"We don't know," Francesco was the first to speak, his face downtrodden.

"No one is looking for her?"

They all looked at each other before once again Francesco spoke. "Frediano is out now, but Maura - "

"Francesco, Tommaso, both of you are very well _and_ able to go and look for your sister!" Maura shouted. "How long has she been gone?"

"She never came back last night," Tommaso admitted.

Maura covered her mouth and seconds later ran from the room in tears.

* * *

Fear is an odd emotion that covers a wide range of feelings. There is fear that can be defined by the feeling that someone is watching you; fear of dying that causes your heart to pound – and then there is utter terror such as the feeling that you may actually die.

He was humming a folk song about happiness as he tied her wrists tighter to the iron stakes that had been placed in the soft ground, his hold growing on her. Now that she was waking though, he was beginning to feel that grip loosen.

"_Buon giorno_, Gianna."

Her head pounded like it never had before – worse than any hangover could have ever produced. Her vision was blurred and hazy when she finally opened her eyes to Houssam's smiling face.

He was an older man, his face clean-shaven and his hair in gray wisps around his temples. He had a large crooked nose that sat just above a full mouth with crooked, abnormally white teeth. He was dressed in the black robes of a monk, but wore no cross around his neck – just a silver locket that hung dangerously close to Gianna's open mouth.

"Are you religious, Gianna?"

She didn't answer, but rather listened to him laugh. He continued his humming while withdrawing a _stiletto_ from a sheath at his side. She began to look about her, but didn't recognize her surroundings. Was she in a barn? An old house? The island of Murano? She wasn't sure.

"You know that portrait of Jesus that hangs in _San Marco_? Above the altar?" He laughed again, a smile on his lips after. "How the Lord carries scars on his hands?"

She was beginning to wake fully now, her eyes grasping the image of Houssam's rather smiley face now turning angry.

"I always found them beautiful," He twisted the _stiletto_, "I always found religion beautiful…if not flawed…much like you, Gianna."

She screamed louder than she ever had in her life, she long, sharp _stiletto_ piercing her left palm. Houssam laughed in pleasure and left the knife there, drawing yet another one from a second sheath.

"Now you will be _forever_ flawed," He leaned close to her, his breath tickling her ears, "and ever the more beautiful."

She felt her body shaking and she felt as though she would pass out. The absolute pain that shuffled through her skin was nothing like anything she had ever felt before. She wanted to kill him, but she felt so weak, so fragile.

"You're my last Gianna, so I want to make you perfect," He told her, tracing her cheek with the knife and causing a rather shallow but bloody cut. "You are my _duomo_."

He plunged the second _stiletto_ through her right palm, eliciting a second shrill scream from her. She felt her consciousness waver and felt herself slipping into blackness. _If I am indeed going to die, I will take the cowardly way out and pray I do not feel it…_

He chuckled again and she heard him pick up a heavier object by her feet, what she assumed to be her sword. "Thank you Gianna, for being worth my time."

Just as she heard him inhale to take a final, heavy plunge toward her, she heard the door slam open and men's voices. She opened her eyes slightly and immediately saw Houssam pushed the floor and felt gentle arms engulfing her.

"It will be all right, Gianna, we found you."

**A/N: Chapter 8 will be posted tonight, imma just make myself a grilled cheese for…sustenance. Please let me know what you thought, my loves! KC.**


	8. Pianificazione sua morte

**A/N: Holy CRAP it's been too long. Sorry for anyone who thought I wouldn't update, but here goes. Hope the longer chapter has made up for my lack of updatedness haha.**

It was early the next morning when Maura awoke to a rather sticky heat that gathered about the old cot she inhabited. She glanced around the bedroom, taking in the sound of a gently snoring Gianna from the bed above her.

Maura sat up quietly, her body sore from all the shaking and worrying she did the day before. Her chest and throat still hurt from the tears she cried from fear. Although she may not have known Gianna for too long, they had grown quite close and developed a bond in their short time together.

She sat down on the small bed beside the Italian woman, placing her dainty hand on Gianna's hip under the light blanket. The snoring stopped and Maura found herself at the end of a dagger that had been hiding under the Italian's pillow.

"_Gesu Cristo_, Maura!" Gianna recalled the dagger into its hiding spot, running a hand across her sweaty forehead. "I could have killed you!"

"I'm sorry, I did not realize - "

Gianna sighed and put her hands up. "It's of little importance…I am sorry to have frightened you."

"Considering what happened last night, I do not blame you," Maura allowed Gianna a small grin, still feeling her heart pounding in her chest. "Your hands, how do they feel?"

"They have been better, _il mia dolce_," Gianna patted the little space beside her on the bed, "lay down, let us sleep."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable,"

Gianna shook her head. "Please, _mi piacerebbe_,"

Maura lay down gently beside the tall woman, lying on her side to give Gianna most of the room. She was surprised when the Italian placed her arm around her gently, laying her bandaged hand up around Maura's free-flowing golden hair. Gianna let out a rather large sigh before placing a small, wet kiss on the tiny woman's head.

"I am glad Korsak was able to bring me back to you," She whispered, her husky voice even more so than usual.

"I would not have allowed anyone else to fix your hands," Maura replied softly, "especially not that Luccio that your mother seems to take a liking to."

"Luccio is an _uomo strano_, but before you came to _Venezia_, he was all we had for _medicina_," Gianna replied, her voice growing weak with sleep. "But I am glad we have you now…you are much better with _pazienti_ and much _più bella_."

"Well, yes, my features are that of idealistic women painted mostly by Raphael, Michelangelo, Boticelli…"

"Maura, I was paying you a _complimenta_, you do not have to back it up with your _fatti folli_."

"_Mi dispiace_, Gianna." She felt herself blush.

Gianna sighed again and whispered sleepily, "Though, to have you forever placed on paper would be _un onore e un privilegio_…"

* * *

Frediano walked silently into the wooden walled office of Korsak, holding his sword as he shut the door behind him. Korsak had dozed off in the late afternoon while petting one of the stray dogs he kept locked away in his office while on duty. The dog perked its scruffy head up and began to bark rather loudly in Frediano's direction, jarring Korsak from his sleep.

"Ah, Frediano."

"Fall asleep on me, old man?" Frediano laughed, flashing his superbly white teeth. "The guards, they've asked you to come look after Houssam."

"Why can't they do it?" Korsak yawned and allowed the scruffy pup off his lap. "Good girl, Josephina."

"Josephina…?" Frediano raised one of his eyebrows.

The older man stood and stretched his arms above his head. "Yes, Josephina…after a rather tough woman I knew growing up at home, now shush."

"_Va bene, va bene._" Frediano raised his hands above his head and laughed. "Anyway, they want you to try and get some information out of him…he wont talk to anyone else."

"Hmm," Korsak stepped toward the door and motioned for Frediano to follow him. Together, they walked down the hall and down a set of stairs that led into the dungeon.

Houssam was seated on a small stool, his tough hands carving an image out of a piece of wood while he hummed. Upon seeing the captain of the guard, he laughed, not lifting his head to greet Korsak.

"So, you have come to try now too, _Capitano?_" He continued to laugh. "I will talk to no one but Gianna Rizzoli. Bring her to me."

"You really think she would grant you that _honore_?" Korsak replied, folding his arms over his chest.

"If you want any information, you will _give_ me that _honore_." He snapped.

Frediano rushed the barred doors and slammed his fists down on them. "_È compiaciuto stronzo, come osi cercare di ottenere la sua _- "

"Frediano," Korsak shouted. "If Gianna comes to you, you must allow either he," He gestured to Frediano, "or myself to be in attendance, _si_?"

"No," Houssam replied, still not looking at them. "But you will allow _Dottore_ Isles to be here with Gianna."

"What do you want with her, _stronzo_?" Snapped Frediano.

"I will speak to no other man, moor." He laughed again, and then stopped when he caught his finger on his knife. After allowing the blood to dribble off onto the wood he was carving, he laughed again. "How fitting that _I _should bleed for _her_."

Houssam tossed the carving over to where Frediano was standing and then turned his stool into the corner. The young man picked up the carving, glancing it over and few times and then handing it to Korsak.

"It's Gianna," He whispered.

"I know," Replied the Captain, "and I fear what will become of her if we let her loose with this _pazzo_."

* * *

"No, no, I refuse to allow Gianna to see him, _Capitano_," Maura whispered angrily. "That would not help her healing in any way."

"It has nothing to do with that, _dottore_," Korsak sighed, his eyes tired, "I'm sure if Gianna knew how much it would help, she would not hesitate."

"It's not _good _for her though," Angela piped in from the corner. She had been silent until now. "_Capitano_, _mia_ Gianna needs rest and no stress like _Dottore_ Isles says she does...perhaps she can see this _pazzo_ in a few days."

"Please, _donne_, please, understand where I am coming from," He begged.

"What is going on?" Gianna interrupted, coming in from the kitchen door, a slice of bread in her hand.

"Gianna, we need you to speak with Houssam," Korsak blurted out.

"If you want him to live, I suggest you do not allow that," She replied rather harshly, scoffing.

"I really do not care if he lives or dies, but the Doge will not allow us to put him to death until we find his motive," Korsak replied, folding his arms again. "He says he wont talk to anyone _but_ you, Gianna."

"Then I will speak to him,"

"Gianna, no," Maura placed her hand on Gianna's arm, "I don't think that is a good idea,"

"No, it is not, Maura, but it is what has to be done," The tall Italian replied, "if you want to see this _pazzo_ put to death, then I will have to talk to him."

"Then I am coming too,"

Gianna sighed and rolled her eyes, "_Maura_..."

"No, I am coming...if anything to protect you."

She rolled her eyes again. "Maura, how do you intend to protect me? With a _corsetto_?"

Both Korsak and Frediano sniggered, their eyes averting Maura's now icy gaze.

"I am quite capable with a knife, Gianna, thank you," She snapped, "I _am_ a doctor after all."

Gianna sighed. "If you insist."

"I do."

"Fine, then we will _both _be speaking to him, Korsak," Her chocolatey eyes shifted upward to the older man by the door.

"Good, and you will speak to him tomorrow. He does not deserve the speediness he wishes to have."

Gianna smirked. "Oh no, he does not."

* * *

**A/N: In case you were wondering, "Luccio" is Pike..."Luccio" loosely translates to that (in weapon form). Enjoy, and PLEASE comment!**


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